Moustache Wager
by Bears Eat Beets
Summary: C'mon guys, with a title like that do you REALLY need a summary? I thought not.
1. The Setup

**Author's Note:** Hey all! Yep, I took a whole week's break, but now I'm back. All credit for this idea goes to Mr. Beets - once he shared it I _had _to run with it.

* * *

"Hey Pam," Michael greeted the receptionist amiably.

"Morning, Michael," Pam returned, glancing up from her computer briefly to give him a grin, then returning to work.

Michael remained at her counter, grinning at the camera, then Pam again. A long minute passed, during which Michael tapped out "shave and a haircut, two bits" four times. With the quietest of sighs, Pam looked at him again.

"Did you have a nice weekend?" she asked.

_Tap tap-tap tap tap… _"Sure did!" Michael finished his fifth go-round with the tune.

"Oh good." Pam returned her gaze to the monitor, apparently thinking her duty was done.

Michael had other ideas.

"Pam," he whispered dramatically. Pam dragged her eyes away from the monitor as if in pain. Michael's eyes were wide with excitement. "Have I got…oh man," he spluttered, giving in to a bout of giggling. He took a deep breath to compose himself as Pam eyed the camera. "I have got a…" But he stopped with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to give it away yet," he said.

"Okay," Pam agreed, almost too readily.

Michael stepped away from her counter, but then rushed back. "I have got the best idea _ever_," he hissed, grinning widely before scampering back to his office.

Pam pursed her lips and looked to the camera again.

* * *

Michael: (_hands folded_) So, last Friday I got my latest delivery from Columbia House. I'd ordered these DVDs so long ago I'd completely forgotten about them…well, until that charge for like a hundred bucks showed up on my bill…that seems a little high, I know, but I got 12 CDs for a _penny_ three years ago, and you can't argue with a deal like that. Anyway, I open the box, and inside is season two of _Magnum, P.I. _and _Cannonball Run II_. (_He grins.) _Classics, right? And as I was watching, I thought, wow. These guys are so cool. What makes these guys so _cool_? I mean, Tom Selleck, Burt Reynolds, Dom DeLuise…the epitome of cool. Finally it hit me. (_He sits back._) Moustaches. What guy _doesn't _look cool in a moustache?

* * *

The productive midmorning quiet was broken when Michael finally emerged from his office. Standing near Jim's desk he graced his employees with a toothy smile. "Okay, men of Dunder Mifflin, listen up. I have an idea that you're going to love."

"Why only the men?" Angela wondered, frowning.

"Because this isn't France; you ladies can't participate. But trust me, you'll all rape the benefits," Michael assured her. He popped a foot onto Jim's desk in one of his classic poses that had to be murder on his thigh muscles. Jim rolled his chair backwards a few inches. "Fellas, what makes us cool?"

A general silence answered him. His brows furrowed slightly.

"C'mon, guys. What makes cool guys so cool? Think of the coolest guys you know – what makes them awesome?" he pressed.

"Tattoos?" Kevin guessed.

"Good try, Kevin, but no," Michael answered.

"Nice cars?" Oscar attempted uncomfortably.

Michael shot him a sly grin. "Oscar, you gold digger you. But no." Oscar frowned. Michael spread his arms wide. "Come _on_, guys, _think_."

"Not having herpes," Andy tried.

"A box spring under your mattress?" This, of course, from Creed.

Dwight snapped his fingers and pointed at Michael. "Owning a rare copy of _The Star Wars Holiday Special_," he supplied with confidence.

Michael groaned. "No! God!" He looked to his assistant regional manager. "Jim, help me out."

"I'm going with Dwight's answer," Jim replied, steepling his fingers under his chin thoughtfully. Dwight nodded.

Michael heaved a world-weary sigh. "No, no, and _no_," he fumed, rubbing his temples. "It's moustaches, dammit! Moustaches!"

Andy clapped appreciatively. "Yes. The 'stache!"

"Really?" Jim asked, jimming at Pam. She raised her eyebrows at him in a way that clearly said "_Duh_."

"Yes really. There's never been a guy who had a moustache that wasn't super cool. Think about it: LeBron James, Johnny Depp, that _My Name Is Earl _guy_-_"

"Hitler," Jim helpfully added to the list.

Michael shifted awkwardly. "Well—"

"Don't forget Gallagher," Pam threw in.

"What does this have to do with us?" Oscar asked, folding his arms.

"_Gracias _for your enthusiasm, Oscar. I figured, in the effort to boost our cool factor here - not that we need to, but it never hurts – all us guys could grow moustaches," Michael explained. He took his foot off Jim's desk with some difficulty and strolled to the center of the office. "And, to make it interesting, I thought we could place a little moolah on the line. Let's say we each chip in a hundred bucks, and whoever has the best moustache at the end of four weeks gets the pool. Stanley the Manly, you're obviously not eligible, seeing as how you already rock a moustache."

"Oh damn," Stanley muttered, never raising his eyes from his paperwork.

"But everyone else may enter." Michael smiled and rubbed his hands together, surveying the crowd. "Whaddya think?"

"How will we determine who has the best moustache?" Dwight asked.

"That's where the ladies'll get involved. They'll vote." Michael smiled wider. "So? Who's in?"

"Me," Kevin immediately volunteered.

* * *

Kevin: I can grow a pretty awesome moustache. I used to have one a few years ago, but the ladies didn't seem to like it. (_He looks a little down but shrugs._) It's only a month. I could _really _use the cash.

* * *

Phyllis: (_frowning_) I asked Michael if Bob Vance could participate, but he said no. He said he didn't want the Vance Refrigeration office to get any cooler, just ours. It's too bad, because I've always thought Bobby would look real handsome in a moustache. (_She smiles._) Like Wink Martindale. (_A pause_.) With a moustache.

* * *

Much to her obvious dismay, Michael had left Pam with the sign up list and the envelope designated to hold everyone's money. Dwight and Andy approached her desk at the same time. "I need the list," they said in unison. Without looking up from her game of Free Cell Pam set the paper on her counter. Andy was quicker off the draw and snatched it first. Dwight gave him an evil look.

"You honestly think you can grow a better moustache than me?" he scoffed.

Andy smirked as he signed his name with a flourish. "Are you kidding me? I grow a 'stache that could only be described with one word." Andy tossed the paper at Dwight. He let the pause marinate as he fished five twenties from his wallet. After handing them to Pam he raised one eyebrow at Dwight. "_Glorious,_" he finally informed, then strutted back to his desk.

Pam looked away from the computer and shared a rare smile with Dwight.

* * *

Angela: How do I feel about moustaches? They're not wrong; our Lord and Savior had one. Do I find them appealing? (_A long pause while she contemplates that. She finally arches her eyebrow._) Much like many things, it depends on the man.

* * *

Oscar: I know it's stupid, but I'm going to join the bet. I've never really had a moustache or goatee, but my hair grows pretty quickly, so I think that's a bonus. (_He grimaces._) I hate that I'll look like a 1970's gay stereotype, but I'm also really itching to go on another vacation, so…fair trade-off, I guess.

* * *

It was only an hour before quitting time when Jim approached Pam's desk looking overly casual. Striking his trademark lean, he reached over and retrieved the list from her desk. "Everyone's signed up, huh?" he mused.

"Just about," Pam answered, typing up a memo to corporate.

"Even Creed?"

Pam nodded, looking over at Jim for a moment. "Although I don't think he actually knew what he was signing up for. He mentioned something about a pick-up place and avoiding 'the pigs,'" she told him.

"Sounds about right," Jim said.

Pam continued typing and didn't look up again until the sign-up list and a crisp hundred dollar bill landed on her keyboard. With an expression of pure shock she looked to Jim, who was already back at his desk and artfully avoiding her gaze.

* * *

Jim: So, I decided I might as well go for it. I'm not sure I'll win, but…no harm in trying. (_He holds up a fist and smirks._) Solidarity.

* * *

Pam: Do I find moustaches attractive? Well, Roy had a moustache for awhile… (_She trails off, realizing this may not be the wisest track to go down, then shrugs._) Um… (_Another uncomfortable pause._) Jim's always cute. (_Long, long pause. She reaches up and fiddles with her necklace._) We could use some new furniture.

* * *

Michael: Can you believe it? (_He holds up the sign up list triumphantly_.) _Everyone _signed up! I knew they'd love this plan. (_He leans in some._) I made it a bet because…well, I'm obviously gonna win. That six hundo is as good as mine. I mean, there's no contest. Don't believe me? Look at this. (_He quickly loosens his tie, unbuttons his top buttons and holds his shirt open, revealing a very hairy chest_.) No one'll be able to contend with that. (_He strokes his upper lip in anticipation._) I can almost _feel_ it growing in now.

* * *

**A/N Pt. II: **I'm writing this at a much more leisurely pace, so updates may not be as frequent, plus I have a few other things - fan fiction related and otherwise - that I'm working on. Just a head's up. This story won't be getting cute review songs like _The Trip_, but you can still review. I encourage it, really.


	2. Week One

**Author's Note: **Hello, my people! Sorry this has taken so damn long - this story is a lot harder to write than it seems. Plus, I've had a fair bit of drama in my life recently and so writing wasn't going so well. But things are better, I got inspired by some great fic (have you all read anything by one of our newcomers, Mr. Zoppity? He's my new buddy!), and I managed to bang this out.

A few questions answered - this takes place sometime during Season Five (I know this initially said s4, but that didn't make sense). Not that important, really, but there you go. Also, this is the format that the next three chapters will take - assume that a week elapsed in between Michael starting the bet and this chapter. Allows time for growth. And several of you inquired after images of our DM men with 'staches...I promise nothing. I'm still bonus material-ed out after _The Trip_, but we'll just have to see.

* * *

**MONDAY.**

"Check it out, mah babies! And be cool!" Michael announced as he strolled into the office, arms wide. "Jay Leno," he said as an aside to the camera.

"What?" Jim finally asked, breaking the awkward silence that followed Michael's request.

"My moustache! Look how fast it's coming in! That's what she said!" He chuckled as he stoked his upper lip, which appeared to be coated with a heavy dusting of Oreo crumbs.

"That's stubble," Phyllis said.

"I know it's stubble _now_, but this is what I managed to grow in just a few days. Just think of how great it'll be by Friday!"

"I grew some too, Michael," Dwight pointed out, and pointed to his own upper lip, covered in its own virtual graham cracker crust.

"Hardly the same," Michael dismissed.

"It's still pretty good," Dwight countered defensively.

"Eh," was all Michael would concede.

"Morning, office!" Andy chirped as he came in. His coworkers stared at him. "What?"

"How…how did you do that?" Michael breathed, staring at the almost full moustache Andy sported.

"What…oh this?" he asked with great false modesty. "Dunno. Just sprouted up in the night." He grinned widely and slapped Michael on the back as he walked to his seat.

Jim and Pam looked at each other, mouthing 'That's what she said' in unison.

* * *

Andy: (_stroking his moustache proudly_)I'm _awesome _at growing hair. I used to have super long hair back in the day when I was in a band. We were called "Wyld Wyld Stallyns" - Stallyns with one Wyld was already taken – and I was the lead singer. I put Axl Rose to shame. (_His voice rises to a falsetto._) _You know where you are? You're in the jungle, baby! And you're gonna diiiiiiiiie!_

* * *

"Your facial hair is pathetic," Dwight announced to Jim as they worked.

"Thank you."

"You're such a girl."

"I know."

Dwight frowned. "You're not bothered that I called you a girl?"

"Nope. I _am_ a woman; why should I be offended?" Jim asked, not looking away from his computer.

"You're not a woman."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not, Jim. You're clearly a man."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are, Jim. You're a man."

"What was that?"

"You're a _man_, Jim," Dwight repeated loudly.

"Thank you, Dwight." Jim gave his deskmate, then the camera, a smile, then returned his gaze to his computer.

Dwight's mouth fell open as he stared at Jim, then huffed indignantly.

Jim's smile widened.

* * *

**TUESDAY.**

"So how are you liking your boyfriend growing a moustache?" Kelly asked Pam as she stood at her counter.

"Um, I think he looks pretty cute."

Kelly nodded. "Moustaches can look totally hot on the right guy. Like Darryl? He looks _so_ sexy in his."

Pam smiled, clearly not sure how to respond. It was surprisingly quiet a moment.

"It's too bad Ryan couldn't be here for this," Kelly said.

"It seemed like Ryan could grow a moustache pretty well," Pam mused. "If he just let it grow out—"

But she was stopped as Kelly shook her head. "Oh no, that's as much as his facial hair would grow. It's pathetic. It would have been great to laugh at him."

Pam nodded. It was again quiet, then Kelly got a devious smile.

"You know who I bet has a great moustache?"

"Who?"

"Ryan's boyfriend in prison," Kelly said as she walked away.

* * *

Pam: (_smiling_) She left before I could high five her. _That's_ the kind of trash talking I can get behind.

* * *

**WEDNESDAY.**

Creed was leaning against the wall reading the newspaper and Kevin was agonizing over his choice at the vending machine when Oscar entered the break room. He hovered near the doorway as he waited for Kevin to finish.

Finally his fellow accountant chose a Snickers, but as he righted himself after retrieving it he gave Oscar a smile that melted into a look of confusion.

"What?" Oscar asked.

"What's on your lip?" Kevin asked.

Oscar's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Your upper lip looks weird."

"That's because it's covered in hair, Kevin, just like everyone else's," Oscar explained with patience.

"That's not it," Kevin argued, taking a step closer as he studied Oscar.

"The big man's right," Creed seconded.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about," Oscar said, self-consciously rubbing his upper lip.

Kevin had drawn even closer and was bent in the effort to figure out what was wrong with Oscar. "You have grey hairs in your 'stache," Kevin finally announced.

"That's crazy. I'm not old enough for that."

"I went totally silver at thirty seven," Creed told them, nodding sagely. "And I can see those babies sparkling on your face from over here."

Oscar shot Creed a dirty look as Kevin giggled. "Dude, you're _old_."

* * *

"I swear!" Pam said laughingly to Jim as he stood at her counter.

"She did not say that," Jim said, looking part embarrassed and part irritated.

"I heard her myself! Meredith was in the kitchen with Phyllis, saying how sexy 'rugged Jim' looked."

"Are you finished?"

"Like 'old Bruce Springstein.'"

"'Old Bruce Springstein?'" Jim repeated, making a face at her.

"Don't knock Bruce. He was _very _handsome back in the day," Pam defended The Boss. Now it was Jim's turn to grin.

"Oh was he?"

She nodded emphatically. "I had his poster up in my room…he was my first crush."

"At age two?"

Pam narrowed her eyes. "Five, thanks," she corrected.

Just then Oscar approached the pair. "Hey man," Jim greeted him. Oscar gave him a faint nod, leveling his gaze at Pam.

"Do you happen to have any black mascara?" he whispered desperately.

* * *

**THURSDAY.**

The kitchen was empty, save for Dwight brewing a new pot of coffee at Michael's request. Angela wandered in and spotted her former lover; her jaw set in a hard line but she marched into the room anyway, throwing open the fridge.

"Hello, Angela," Dwight murmured in greeting.

"Dwight," she responded flatly.

A long silence passed.

"How are you?" he finally asked.

"Fine," she spat.

"Good. I am fine as well."

"Good."

Another weighty silence filled the space.

"What do you think of my facial hair?" he dared to ask.

Angela slammed the refrigerator door. "I hate it," she told him as she stormed back out.

* * *

Dwight: (_frowning_) I'm not growing this for anyone. Except Michael. (_A long pause; he starts to look less certain_.) And the money. We need several new sickles at the farm, both for farming and décor purposes.

* * *

"So everyone agreed to this bet?" Darryl asked as he spun the ping pong paddle in his hand.

"Yup," Jim said as he served.

Darryl volleyed Jim's serve easily. "And the winner gets six hundred bucks?"

"Yup," Jim answered, returning the shot.

"No goatees, just moustaches?"

"Uh huh."

Darryl shook his head as he slapped the ball again. "You know y'all look like pedophiles, right?" he asked, grinning.

Jim jimmed as he missed his shot. "Yep," he sighed.

* * *

Darryl: (_in his office, stroking his chin_) Money can't make up for _style_, son.

* * *

******FRIDAY.**

"Pam?" Michael called out from his office. When the receptionist didn't immediately appear he frowned at his reflection in the mirror he was holding. "Pam?" Still no one came. "PamPamPamPamPam_Pam_!"

Pam jogged in, looking upset. "I was on the phone, Michael," she said.

"Well, I need help. And my needs should come first, before your stupid calls."

"Stupid calls are my job."

"Blah blah blah," he droned, tossing down the mirror and staring at her. "Pam, what am I supposed to do?" he pleaded.

"About what?"

"'About what?' About _this_!" He jabbed a finger at his upper lip. "It's not growing!"

"It's grown some," Pam attempted to placate him. He shook his head violently.

"No it hasn't. Everyone's is way better than mine. It's stopped growing. I had a huge head start and then it just stopped. How can I be so hairy everywhere else and not where it counts?"

"I…don't know," Pam answered, looking disturbed.

"Do you know any herbal remedies to get face hair to grow?"

Pam shook her head. "Girls usually try to _avoid _growing facial hair," she told him.

"Ugh. Tell that to Meredith," Michael muttered. "How about store-bought cures? Like a special shampoo or something?"

Pam looked as if she was thinking of something, no doubt hoping an answer would help get her out of his office. "What about Rogaine?" she offered.

Michael groaned. "Pam, I am young, I am fun, I am _sexy_. I can't have Rogaine in my condo. What if a lady comes over?"

"Like Jan?"

"Like _any _lady," Michael corrected her. "Do you think massaging it will help? Stroking it?"

Before Pam had to find a response to that her phone rang. "I need to get that," she said as she hurried out and back to her desk.

"Dammit, Pam! I'm in _need_!" Michael yelled.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."

"You're welcome."

Pam looked around. "Where are you?"

"Look out the door."

She did, and the camera swung that way as well. Jim waved from his spot against the hallway wall. "I just figured as long as no one can see me, I can keep you distracted," he added.

"Thank you," she sighed, leaning back in her chair.


End file.
